


Write It Out and It'll All Be Fine

by Karlethandra_Merthensa



Series: Avenger's Heart Wrenchers (Torture-Fics) [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Chronic Depression, Cutting, I like torturing Steve for some reason, I'm being serious, Kinda, M/M, SERIOUS WARNING ABOUT READING THIS, Selfless!Steve, Serious Depression, Steve is awful about taking care of himself, Steve is hurting, The ending is happy!, Writing Out Emotions, Your funeral, depressed!Steve, this might make you cry, torture fic, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6461761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karlethandra_Merthensa/pseuds/Karlethandra_Merthensa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you keep quite for so long, sometimes things slip through, in the worst of ways.  A hidden blade, a drop of blood, blue eyes dull.  He'd heard once it was a good thing to write out your thoughts if you have a hard time talking about them.  He tried it.  It only served a single purpose in the end.  One can only go so long helping everyone else before he must take his own help, whether he wants it or not.</p><p> </p><p>THIS COULD CAUSE TRIGGERS, PLEASE IF YOU ARE EFFECTED EASILY, DO NOT READ.  THIS STORY IS RUSHED AND PARTS ARE NOT ACCURATE.  I HEAVILY URGE ALL THOSE WHO FEEL IT COULD LEAD TO SOMETHING TO STAY AWAY.</p><p>I have not gotten things completely right in the case of the Bipolar part, and I mean no harm or ignorance if you are to read this.  This is meant to show the light shines even though our darkest times, nothing more, nothing less.  It is meant to show we always have someone there for us, even when we think we are alone and that we must do what we can to protect others.  Not all are like this, and I pray that all who have Depression or Bipolar Disorder get to a place that they are mentally sound.  I know it does not go away, but it does get better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Write It Out and It'll All Be Fine

He sat on the balcony, staring up at the sky as raindrops stung his eyes.  His clothes were soaked, but he didn’t care.  He leaned against the wall, hugging his knees tightly.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t care.

His eyes flickered to a small knife on the chair near him.

He didn’t care.

Cold numb fingers wrapped around the hilt.

He didn’t care.

His finger slid up the blade, the sharp metal sliding easily into his skin.  Blood slowly seeped from the cut.  

He didn’t care.

He brought the knife to his hand, and clutched the blade tightly.  Blood poured down onto the handle, rain water mixing with the rain, standing out against the black.

He didn’t care.

He opened his hand and the knife dropped to the ground.  He stared at the open wound.  Blood flowed freely.  The raindrops stung the gash.  He moved his hand to be under a constant stream coming from the roof.  He watched with blank eyes as the blood was washed away, revealing how deep the blade had actually gone.

He didn’t care.

He blinked.

He stood quickly, grabbing the knife and slipping it under the cushion of the chair.  He headed inside into his bathroom and quickly washed the wound.  He removed his wet clothes and changed into dry ones.  He dried his hair and bandaged his hand.  He looked at himself in the mirror and put on a smile, but it faded.

He did care.

He went back into his room, pulling a small notebook from underneath his mattress.  He opened it numbly, pulling out a pen and writing quickly.

He did care.

Pen meets paper and black ink wrote out words.  Neat handwriting quickly turned hurried as his hand moved faster and faster, getting out what he was thinking onto paper.  Finally, his hand stopped.

He did care.

He slipped the book back under his mattress, and the pen back into his draw.  He looked at his bandaged hand and frowned.

“ _ Sir. _ ”

“Morning JARVIS” He replied.

“ _ You did it again.” _

“I know…”

_ “I firmly still believe that you should tell the others.  They can help. _ ”

“It doesn’t matter JARVIS.  I just need to help them more.”

_ “Sir, with all due respect your emotional levels have been dropping more frequently.  That method is proving to be working less and less.” _

“Then I need to focus on other things more.”

“ _ You’re sleeping less and less, you’re more focused on the others than your own well being.  You cannot help the others if you cannot help yourself.” _

He clenched his fist “But I  _ am _ helping the others, am I not?  I help Bucky every time he has a nightmare, I help Natasha train and keep her mind off her past, I help Clint by being there when he needs to talk to someone, I help Bruce by being someone there for him, I help Tony by making sure he keeps up with his sleep and eating properly-”

_ “Which you are not doing yourself.  They are noticing, Sir.  I am afraid if Tony asks, I will not be able to stop myself from telling him.  If any of them ask really.” _

“I’ll get better…  I promise.”

_ “You’re not telling me that anymore.  You’re telling yourself, Steve.” _

He looked up into the mirror, blue eyes forcing emotion into themselves, blonde hair seeming duller than before.

“I’ll get better.”

_ He did care. _

  
  


“Rogers” Fury’s voice cut through his thoughts sharply, forcing a flinch from Steve as he blinked and looked to the man.  Fury frowned, and studied his face.  “What is wrong with you?” He asked.  “You haven’t been paying attention during the meetings.  Has Stark gotten to you?”

Tony and him had butted heads about an hour ago.  It wasn’t the first time, but they’d gotten better.

“Not sure what you mean” Steve replied.

“Captain, you know damn well what I mean.” Fury growled, leaning on the table.  “Something has been changing in you Rogers, I want to know what.”

The entire team was looking at him, but Steve just shrugged 

“When I find out myself, you’ll be the first to know.”

  
  


Tony watched Steve carefully.  “What’s with the bandage, Rogers?” He finally asked, pointing to the white gauze wrapped around Steve’s hand tightly.

“Ah, got it when we were fighting those rats earlier.  I dunno how but I opened it again about an hour ago.  It’ll be healed soon enough.” Steve replied, not taking his eyes off his book.

Tony frowned, but said no more.

  
  


Bucky sat on his bed, hugging his legs as he listened.  He could hear the muffled sounds of Steve moving around in his room behind him.  Something hit the wall and he flinched.  He could hear JARVIS’s muffled voice  _ “Be careful.” _

“I’m a mess, eh J?”

_ “Don’t joke.” _

Bucky frowned.  A moment later Steve entered the room.  “Hey, JARVIS told me you were up and heard that.  Sorry about that, I hadn’t been paying attention and knocked into the bookcase.  It knocked into the wall.  Sorry if I scared you” His voice was light, joking.  Bucky nodded slowly as Steve headed out again “Sleep tight, man!”

Bucky could get the image of the bruises across Steve’s bicep out of his head.

  
  
  


“Mr. Rogers, look at me.” A doctor snapped his fingers and Steve sighed.

“I’m  _ fine _ .” He replied, huffing.

“Mr. Rogers, with all due respect, I highly doubt the things you’ve written and the screaming in the stairwell is ‘fine’.” The doctor replied stiffly.  Steve flinched at that.  He couldn’t remember it, but apparently he’d broken down in a stairwell in some building.  No one knew where he was, the media has sworn to keep it off everything and in secret.  He didn’t know how.  Not even SHIELD knew what happened.

“Minor set back” Steve replied, picking at the thin blanket covering his legs.  He sat in a hospital room.  “I’ll get better.”

“Mr. Rogers, I’m afraid that this isn’t going to go away on its own.” The doctor replied, sadly. 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, glancing up to the man.

“After your hour with the Shrink, and your hour with me, we’ve both concluded that you have chronic depression, and high possible chance of Bipolar issues.” Steve flinched at that.  He looked back down.

“I’ll get better” He said, feebly.

“Not without help.” The doctor replied.  “We know about your notebook, and we think it is best if we read it.  And that you let your friends know.”

Steve didn’t reply, shook his head and tucked the notebook under his pillow and laid down, refusing to say anymore.

The doctor left shortly after.

  
  


Steve finally gave him the book after two days, with the words “Fury’s going to hate me.”

  
  


Fury sighed, flipping through page after page. The entire notebook, filled with what began as just a mild sadness to full blown chronic depression.

He looked up as the Avengers team, plus Bucky, minus Steve came in.  

“Sit” He said, and they all sat.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked, noticing the notebook in Fury’s hands, and the sadness in his eye.

“Rogers is in the hospital” He started slowly, holding up a hand to keep Bucky from demanded why they hadn’t been told sooner.  “This is his notebook…  I want to read you all a few pages from it.” He flipped to the first page.

_ “I don’t really know why I’m doing this.  A little release maybe?  Something to actually get my thoughts out of my head?  It’s better than talking to someone, I guess.  No, scratch that, talking to someone would be better, but I’m not that type of person.  Help and don’t get help.  It’s easier that way.  _

_ Buck’s nightmares are getting better.  Not good, but better.  It’s what he tells me at least, and I pray he’s not lying for my expense.  It would really just make me worry more. _

_ Tony’s joining us for Dinner more and more, and that’s good.  He’s comical when it comes to dinner with the team.  It’s a welcome aspect compared to everyone else.  Everyone almost tiptoed around each other.  Tony treats us all like we’re just old friends with nothing special about us.  It’s refreshing. _

_ Nat’s still silent and stoic as ever.  She’s gotten better though.  I think.  How do you talk to a russian assassin? (Yes, Steve, because Bucky isn’t a Russian assassin or anything.) She’s smart though, smarter than most, but not as smart as Bruce or Tony. _

_ Bruce seems more comfortable.  I like it.  I like that he can smile and laugh with us, I like that he is amused by Tony’s antics.  Tony treats him like a person.  When I first met them I treated him like a possible threat.  I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself on that one. _

_ What if Tony said is true?  “Everything good about you came out of a bottle” isn’t that right though?  And technically, he helped make me.  I was just a little boy from brooklyn who didn’t like bullies and loved picking fights.   _

_ I’m don’t deserve the people around me. _

 

Fury flipped to a few pages in

 

_ ‘Can’t do anything right _

_ Idiotic _

_ Stupid _

_ Out of it _

_ A horrible leader _

_ Needs to learn to shut his damn mouth _

_ Can’t adjust well _

_ Should really just kill himself _

_ Who’d miss me, right?  There are so little who even like me  _ _ anyways _

_ No, you’re an idiot.  Bucky needs you. _

_ He’s the only one really.  Tony and I butt heads too much.  Clints a bud, but I doubt he’d miss me.  Bruce avoids me (like everyone else, stop making yourself sound so special).  Thor’s a nice enough guy…  Nat would hurt…  I think. _

_ So only BUck is keeping me around?  That’s nice to know. _

_ I wonder if Tony has ever written anything like this.  I doubt it.  Or maybe I don’t?  I don’t know anymore. _

_ How do people stand me?  I’m horrible.  Tony’s right.  Everything good about me came out of a bottle.  I’m just a boy from Brooklyn who couldn’t stop fighting…  I really don’t like Bullies… _

_ I wonder what would happen if someone found this.   _ _ Talk about the looney house! _

_ God, I’m weird. _

_ I should probably go to sleep _

_ For forever _

_ NO!  I’m an idiot.  I’ve got it great, and I’m talking about suicide?  How would it even go?  I’m a fucking “Super Soldier”!  I just want my old like back.  I want Buck to stop hurting, I want to stop thinking about the man Howard had become (The bastard) Nat keeps trying to get me with someone.  I just want to SLEEP.” _

Fury flipped to one of the last pages.

_ “Once upon a time I was mentally sound. _

_ Look how long that lasted. _

_ I’m sitting in a hospital room after a breakdown we don’t even know what caused it.  Am I not allowed to scream?  Am I not allowed to cry?  A nurse found this and I was talking to a doctor for an hour.  I’m depressed with no reasoning.  They think it’s because I’m “Out of my time” But I’m adjusting well enough, aren’t I?  It took some words to get this notebook back.  The team hasn’t been told.  The Media has sworn to keep it quiet.  How? _

_ I’m back on Meds.  I hate medicine, but I guess it’s helping…? _

_ I talked to a shrink earlier.  They think I have Chronic Depression along with bipolar issues.  They left me in a room alone with a scalpel and I had to stop myself.  That was an eye opener:  I HAD TO STOP  _ **_MYSELF_ ** _.  They hadn’t known they’d left a scalpel.  It wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.  I mean, I’ve hurt myself before, right?  The bandages, the knife under the cushion…  I do need help, don’t I... _

_ A nurse came in to find me putting it back.  I’d broken skin, but not enough to draw blood.  I wasn’t depressed before, was I?  Bucky is going to freak.  He’ll want to take care of me.  I can imagine Clint’s eyes, Natasha’s white knuckles, Tony’s knowing gaze, Bruce’s sad look, Thor’s upset frown.  Should I just not tell them?  What if something gets me triggered?  But if I do tell them, how will they treat me?  Like glass?  I don’t think I could take that. _

_ I just want some normality.” _

 

Fury flipped to the very last page

 

_ “I’m going to give the doctor this book, he’ll give it to Fury.  That’s what’s good, right?  Letting others help you?  I don’t want them to.  I want to do this on my own.  I’m screaming at myself right now “Don’t give them the book!” “You can’t do this by yourself!” “You’re weak!” “Bucky has it worse!” “Tony has it worse!”  They all have it worse. _

_ They’ve all been through worse, and yet here I am being a little bitch and having depression.  I was smiling earlier, but a literal minute later I found myself screaming into my hands.  Maybe there is something wrong with me.  Maybe I’m not fit to be Captain America.  Who can take care of someone else if they can’t take care of themselves?  Who can do something like that?  Me.  I can. _

_ I need to take care of someone.  I have to.  It’s in my programming.  It’s how I was born.  Just writing this makes me feel selfish, like I don’t ‘deserve’ the help I’m getting, but don’t I?  Have I not been through enough to at least deserve a little bit of it? _

_ But own mind doesn’t seem to think so.  I’ll just give the doctor the book and it’ll all get better, right?  God, I hope so.  I was put here for a reason, and that reason is to help.  I can’t do that if I’m trying to slice open my own throat. _

_ Oh, I tried to do that earlier.  The knife was covered in blood.  I wanted to hurl once I figured out what I was doing.  I didn’t bother calling the nurse, I just cleaned it up (She wasn’t happy that I didn’t call her.) _

_ After that I tried to make a long gash down my arm.  That time I swallowed my pride and called her.  She seemed pleased that we were making progress in me actually  _ **_accepting_ ** _ help. _

_ The wounds I put on myself aren’t healing fast.  They’re healing at a human pace.  It’s refreshing.  I like it.  I like feeling… normal.  As much as I can when I’m trying to end my own life though.  Wow.  I never thought I would ever say that (Or write it) but here I am, sitting in a hospital room with a gash across my arm, a small cut on my jugular, and a seriously fucked up world. _

_ Wonder what mama would say if she saw me.  I can’t imagine anything but kind words and promises of it getting better.  I miss mama.  I wish she’d seen me and Buck during the war, looking out for each other.  I promised her I’d always help Bucky.  I plan on keeping that promise. _

_ Depression be damned, I’m not leaving my friends hurt.  I may try and kill myself a few times, but I’ll in Hell before I let it win.  Ironic, isn’t it?” _

 

Fury closed the notebook and tossed it onto the table.  Tony stared at it dumbstruck.  Bucky was clutching the table. 

“Our friend…” Thor started slowly “Has hurt  _ himself _ ?”

“More than once” Fury confirmed.  They all flinched.  “Steve has admitted to slicing his hand, blunting his nails so he could painfully claw at his own skin, sitting in the cold rain for hours at a time, and even making JARVIS promise not to say anything to  _ any _ of you.  It was only known by the A.I and Steve.”

“Oh my-” Tony wiped his face, stopping his hand at his mouth to cover it as he thought. “Out of all of us, he’s the one who breaks.” He whispered finally.

“But now it’s our turn.” Natasha stated. “Steve has spent countless hours tending to us.  You all heard what was written, he still needs to hear our problems, but that doesn’t mean we can’t help him.  Avengers Assemble, because we’ve got one that needs our help.”

  
  


Steve took a deep breath and leaned on the balcony outside his room.  He’d finally convinced JARVIS to unlock the door and let him out there.  It was raining, but instead of wanting to sit down and let it wash over him, he just stood at the railing, leaning over it to look at the ground below.

The Media had finally released what had happened (No pictures or videos, thank God, only a picture of Steve holding a knife in his hand inside his hospital room) and he kept getting letters.  He filtered through them, reading them whether they were good or bad.  Some swirled in his head.

_ “I look up to you and you’re depressed.  You put on a smile for us even though you don’t have to.  You’ll always be my hero.” _

_ “You’re a coward for not doing it.  You’re just going to hurt your friends more by looking after your sorry ass.  You should do yourself and them a favor and just finish it.” _

_ “I know you’re probably getting hate mail and good mail, but I just wanted to say that I’ve been depressed for a long time, and to know that someone as amazing as you is struggling with it as well makes it not seem so suffocating.  Strange as it may sound, it makes it more bearable.  To know that something isn’t wrong, perse, but that just something we’ve done has pushed us, but we’ve both got friends who are helping us.  I’ve got my foster family and you’ve got the Avengers.  We’re both on the lucky side, yes?  I want to see that shining face every time you go on Camera, Captain Rogers.  I want you to know that more than just the Avengers believes in you, that you can bounce back from this and that depression will not destroy us all.  Thank you for being amazing.” _

_ “I had a friend who killed himself.  I told him to.  He’d been a coward and a weakling for not being able to handle me calling him a pussy every now and then.  Stop trying to be a hero with a coward’s face.  End it all.  Now.” _

Steve would have laughed if he wasn’t trying to be sneaky.  He wasn’t supposed to be on the balcony.  Well, they actually hadn’t set any rules, but he knew it set the others on edge, but he couldn’t stop himself.  Only JARVIS ever kept him from doing anything because JARVIS had seen where most times every day things had lead to by the end of his secret depression.  

Finally, he turned to the chair.  He slipped his hand underneath and pulled out the knife.  He’d never written of its location, and the others hand never found it.  He stared at it, stared at the dried blood on the hilt, the cut edges from him hitting it against the railing in a fit of anger. 

He put the blade in his palm and held it there.  He waited, and waited.  He felt it.  That little spark that wanted to just  _ stab _ his own hand.

‘ _ It wouldn’t hurt, we’ve done it before! _ ’ The little spark told him.

But Steve knew better.  He wasn’t numb like before.  No, no, now he was clear.  He hadn’t done anything above pricking his finger and raking his nails across his own skin in a week and a half and he wasn’t about to break it by stabbing his hand.  He turned and headed inside.  He headed into the commons area and paused as saw the others staring at a view feed.

Of his balcony.

It was live, and he wasn’t there anymore.  Bucky started to stand. “No use Barnes, I’m right here” Steve called, lightly holding the knife.  He turned it upside down and lightly balanced it on his finger tip, the blade now too dull to easily break the skin.  They watched him carefully before Tony finally stood and walked to in front of Steve.  He held out his hand.

Steve barely moved his hand and the hilt fell into Tony’s hand.  Tony gave Steve a smile, but it was wiry.  Steve had over heard Tony mention how he missed Steve’s smiles.

Steve smiled back.

Tony’s smile faltered, before growing even wider.  He threw his arms around Steve’s shoulders without thinking, but before he could pull back Steve hugged him tightly, burying his face into the smaller man’s hair, his own smile growing.

He hadn’t spoke to the team first in a month.  He hadn’t smiled in two.

  
  


Steve hummed softly as he moved about the kitchen, pulling down pans and other cooking essencials.  It was Christmas morning.  It’s been three months since his last accident.  He was going to cook for the team for the first time in five.

Steve didn’t know how he was getting better so quickly.  The doctors were baffled, but relieved.  Fans were extravagant in their congratulations and making him promise to the air that he’d continue when he read their letters.

He pulled out cinnamon rolls as he continued to hum.  Soon enough, he looked to the ceiling “JARVIS, do me a favor and start up a holiday playlist.  Make it acapella please.  Pentatonix is best” he smiled when the songs started.

_ “But of course, Master Rogers.” _

“I’ve told you constantly just to call me Steve.”

_ “And I’ve told you constantly only if I need to get something through your thick skull.” _

“Ouch, the A.I with the sass.”

“ _ I take pride _ .”

Steve shook his head, chuckling softly “I’m sure you do, big guy.”

  
  


Tony rubbed his eyes, yawning with the rest of the Avengers as they left the elevator around 8AM into the communal floor.  They froze as they smelt…  Was that cinnamon buns?  Eggs?  Bacon?

“ _ Ah, afternoon everyone”  _ JARVIS’ voice broke through their haze of confusion.  _ “Master Rogers was wondering when you all were going to wake up.  You best hurry, the cinnamon buns just came out, and Steve has been avoiding frosting them because he knows that Master Barton loves to.” _

They all exchanged a look before heading into the kitchen hurriedly.  When they entered, they found plates of food waiting to be taken, and Steve sitting boredly on one of the counters, legs crossed underneath him as he silently read a book.

Tony could stop the smile from slipping onto his face, and he didn’t want to stop it.  He walked over to the blonde, placing his fingers below his chin and forcing him to look Tony in the eyes.

“Oh, there you guys are.” He commented, not taking his eyes off Tony’s. “Take whatever you like, all of it is fresh actually.  Clint, the frosting is in that bowl right there, frost as you wish.”

Tony looked around, before looking back to Steve “You did all of this?” He asked.

Steve shrugged “I’ve done it for the last few years…  Didn’t really want to break that tradition.”

Everyone silently filtered out of the room into the dining room with smiles on their faces.  Bucky left last, but not before ‘accidentally’ knocking Tony into Steve.

Tony flinched, his face burning red as Steve smiled softly at him.  Tony swallowed hard, leaning closer to the larger male.

Their lips touched softly, in a delicate, loving kiss.  Tony felt Steve smile against his lips, and he felt tears against his own cheeks.  Steve finally pulled back and cupped Tony’s face in his hands.

“Why are you crying, Tony?” Steve muttered, pressing his lips into Tony’s forehead.

“I’m sorry” Tony whispered. “I shouldn’t be crying after that.  I just- I’ve wanted to do that for months, but I didn’t know how you’d react.  I was scared if I did anything I’d lose you.  I’d almost too many times now.”

Steve felt string in his heart tug painfully.  A hard look came into his eyes and he shook his head.  It softened to loving when he looked Tony in the eyes.  “This…  What has happened to me will  _ never _ make you lose me.  There-” He swallowed hard “There have been close calls, but you  _ won’t _ lose me.  I won’t lose myself.  I have too much for me to just throw it away.  I see that a lot better now.” He pressed their lips together again, and Tony pushed into him.

It lasted a moment longer before Steve finally pulled back, smiling widely “Come on.  Let’s not keep the others waiting.  And sorry, I wasn’t able to get anyone anything this christmas…” He blushed sheepishly.

Tony smacked his chest lightly “Nonsense.  You’re here with us, and my present was that kiss.”

“So…  Does that mean we’re dating?” Steve asked, hopefully.  

Tony laughed joyfully.  “I dunno Soldier-boy, you tell me.”

“I’d definitely like it.” Steve replied, shrugging.

“Boyfriends it is.” Tony replied, kissing him lightly again.

“Oh, fucking  _ finally _ !” Clint exclaimed, coming into the room as they pulled apart, both now blushing furiously.  Clint moved forwards and grabbed both their wrists, pulling them into the dinning room hurriedly “Now come on lovebirds, we’ve got presents to open and cinnamon buns to eat!  Steve, you get the biggest one you oaf, now come on!”

Steve never smiled more than that day.

**Author's Note:**

> I understand I didn't do the Bipolar Disorder part correctly at all. I did what I could from an outsiders point of view with no research. If I have offended, I greatly apologize. I really do.
> 
> To be ignorant is not something of a bliss, it is something of a curse. One of my friends suffers from Bipolar issues and because of such I am a coward to look up aspects of it. I am afraid to know exactly what she is suffering. It is cowardly and does not sound like a very good friend, I know. I will eventually go and learn of it, I must if I am to become a Counselor or Therapist.


End file.
